The One
by TraipsingExodus
Summary: Amidst fame and fortune, a folly is never forgotten.


Explicit language.

* * *

The bar is loud and rowdy; expected of Noxian establishments, more so because a celebrity has walked in: Draven. After a mountain of grins, autographs and photos, he leads me to a quite corner of the bar, several bodyguards creating a perimeter of isolation within which we can speak. I doubt the famed executioner needs bodyguards for much of anything other than keeping fans away, and in this instance, keeping prying ears from eavesdropping on our conversation.

"It's not a story I tell anyone. Especially not Darius. He'd never let ol' Draven hear the end of it. There are people that know, don't get me wrong. The League's got fancy-ass mind readers for this kinda shit, you know? And Zilean, that old fart, knows everything ever when he's not asleep or being _boring_. Anyway, it was before my gig got big." He pauses and gives me a wry smile, knowing full well such a period of time existed for perhaps a fraction of a second. "Okay, got _really_ big. This is like day one stuff." He stops again and pulls on his goatee before adding, "No, more like day six stuff. They bring in this prisoner for execution. He's got this blank expression, and isn't saying shit, you know? They cut him loose, read him his rules or last rites or whatever the hell, I was busy showboating to the crowd." He pats his bicep and flashes another picturesque grin, "Gotta let them know that Draven's got the goods."

I roll my eyes and sip from my whiskey. "I'm well aware Draven, but would you mind continuing? My time is, much like yours, short and precious, and I need this interview complete if you wish to purchase my services."

He shakes his head and snaps his fingers for a fill-up of his ale. "Right, right, you're a busy man and all that jazz, whatever. So, this prisoner, he's just staring at me, not saying anything. His hands are free, his feet aren't bound any more and I go ahead and point him behind him and show him where the exit is. 'Freedom' if you wanna call it that, no one ever fucking makes it anyway." He stands, a massive grin on his face, and strikes a dramatic pose. "Draven's got the axe spinning, the crowd cheering, it's beautiful! I toss one up nice and high and spin around. I get four full turns out and boom! Draven catches the axe as always." He spins once and shoots an arm into the sky, mimicking the catch. "Why, thank you."

I clear my throat loudly and tap my shot glass on the bar impatiently. To call his response sheepish would stretch the manners of this entertainer to their extremes. He at least looks less smug.

"So anyway, I tell him, 'Alright, you get a head start as always, but be ready baby, because the axes start flying once you've been given five seconds. I wish we could award you guys prizes for each second you last after those first five, but we can't leave them lying on gravestones or sticking out of urns or whatever it is they do with you.' The starting horn goes off and I shoo him along, right?" He shoos away an invisible figure before him. "And he just keeps staring at me like some kinda dumbass. So I say to him, 'Look, it's no fun if I just toss an axe at your gut when you're standing right there. At least run out a bit so it _looks_ like a show. If we were doing executions we could've just brought Darius in.'" He pauses to drink from his glass and continues. "As an aside, Darius doing executions is always messy. I dunno if you've ever seen what that axe does to people, but it ain't pretty." He places his palms flat against each other and the pulls them apart violently. "God damn if it ain't a show though. Runs in the blood." His eyes unfocus and his perpetual grin becomes dreamy. "Oh shit, right, the story. So finally this mook turns around and starts _walking_. He's walking! Away from me! From Draven! I didn't know if I should have been pissed or felt sorry I was executing a retarded guy. So I count to five because fuck it, he started walking away, that counts as trying to escape I guess and I then I toss my axe." His smiles fades and his brows furrows. "I miss. I never miss. Except, shit I dunno, I couldn't have missed, it was right on target. The axe just thunks right into the ground and he's now to the right of where I thought he was."

He drains his glass and bangs it on the bar. "So I toss my second axe, but I lead it a bit you know? Just a little to the left, I'm sure he's gonna dodge it and get a backful of pain." He stomps his foot and throws his arms out in front of him in exasperation. "I fuckin' miss again! He just keeps walking and doesn't even try to 'dodge' it. He calls my bluff right there! So now I'm pretty pissed and I start running. I run sometimes for the executions, you know? Don't throw the axe out, just try to catch the really fast ones instead. A little cat and mouse. The slow ones are always great to just fill with axes 'cos they're usually beefy and like to take two to put down and Draven knows how to land the trick shots. Hoo boy, I threw two axes at this one guy once, notched em together and they cut him clean in half. Big guy too, really beefy." The smile of that memory fades and his brow furrows again. "But this guy I'm tossing my axes at as fast as I can. And then I see it. I know exactly what I'm going to do. Every axe I toss he just dodges perfectly without even _looking_ at me. He can sense 'em and he can dodge 'em like nothing. But he can't dodge when he's trying to leave the stadium because it's just a single hallway. Narrow too. Just high enough to stand in." He points both index fingers at me and smiles broadly. "Eh? Whatcha think? A little murder corridor so right when the poor saps think they're home free they take two in the back and can't even react." He laughs heartily and adds, "Thwack! Thwack! And boom, the body slumps over and the crowd starts cheering my name!"

His grin slackens and a bitter expression washes over him. "But that didn't happen this time. I don't know how he did it but he just got into the hallway and those two axes were going right for him and...Well I got my axes back but the bastard just disappeared. Crowd didn't even boo, I was amazed. They were probably just as stunned as I was." He drains the freshly filled glass, filled during his harangue and sets it loudly upon the bar. "Haven't missed a prisoner since. But damn if that didn't throw me for a loop. So, that's why you're here. Help me find the bastard. I want another go at this one, because if you can escape the Draven, that's worth respect."

My expression becomes puzzled. "You don't harbor resentment? You don't hate him?"

"Hate him? God damn, he's the reason Draven keeps on top of his game. If you don't get that one little prick that gets away, you get soft." He pats his firm stomach and chuckles. "In a buncha ways. Draven doesn't do soft. Don't get me wrong, if and when I meet him I'm gonna kill him, but it'll be for the whole reason I keep doing this gig: sport. So, now that you know Draven's little secret, I'm gonna have to ask you two things: one, don't tell anyone or I'll kill you." He winks and adds, "And two: can you find this guy? I realize hiring someone is a bit un-Draven; I should be finding him myself, but who has the time? Matches and events, add on some really hot babes and Draven's got a busy schedule. I mean, I ain't ever heard of you, but I can tell. You got this look. Confidence. Draven likes that."

I smirk and reach into my pocket and produce a folded card. "I have a feeling I may be able to find him. Here's my card; I'll do a little research. Ring that number for a follow-up in about a day or so. Until then, I have another appointment and my ride is waiting, if you'll excuse me." I stand and with a wave of goodbye exit the bar. The bodyguards close in around Draven and force the mob of people still wanting autographs into a somewhat cohesive line. I can barely hear his goodbye over the din and step out onto the cold, quiet Noxian streets.

My driver and cab is waiting for me and I get swiftly into the car. We pull away from the curb and set off for the airship docks. My driver speaks up at last. "Did you really have to go in and do this? It was pretty reckless."

A broad smile forms on my face and stupid giddiness fills my stomach. "He's got a bad memory or something. But don't worry so much, a hot ticket to Ionia and a quiet life on sandy beaches is all I need after a second dance with the devil."

* * *

And sight unseen, Draven opens the folded card; the expression on his face changes from horror, to fury to at last great amusement as he reads: _You'd think you'd remember the face of the one that got away. _He folds the card again and pockets it before shaking his head in a mixture of shame and appreciation.

"Motherfucker."


End file.
